Phobia Translation: Fear of clowns

I stand in the crowd looking out and about at the carnival. Happy faces from kids who are covered in ice cream and holding balloons surround me along with their cheerful parents. Couples linking arms go around to play games and win prizes for each other and others go around for the ride. Animals walk around, enjoying the occasional petting from the kids and ringmasters introduce everyone to new games and acts. I move to walk forward in order to play a game. I have no interest in carnivals except whenever I play ring-toss or go to buy some cotton candy from a vendor. I was never a carnival person. I continue to walk, my  eyes darting from side to side to spy any signs of unnatural colors, scary smiles, or a dark persona behind a pale mask of paint. I reach the area with the games, letting my guard down as I get close. The flap of the carnival tent opens and beady black eyes gape into my soul.

I run.

The neon colors of his hair and disheveled clothes still burn into my eyes. I can still see him standing in front of me. Watching me. That smile so happy it was almost like watching a serial killer getting ready to go in for the kill?

Why must I run? I must run! I don't want to die!

That red hair...that disheveled red mop that sticks out like a perm gone wrong.... The unnaturally multi-colored clothes.... That fake mouth that leaves a black hole where the real one is..... Who even knows what's real?!

The ghost-like paint sends chills down my spine. Those painted eyes...the beady black eyes...they stare at me. That too happy voice paralyzes my muscles, leaving me vulnerable to an unknown fate. Who is to know the monster behind the paint?! That demonic paint that strikes me in my nightmares and that digs into my very soul. Who is really there? I can't see.... I don't know.... It could be someone I know.... Someone I don't know, most likely..... A serial killer escaped from prison.... A kidnapper waiting to strike..... The bully in the yard next door who nearly killed me with a baseball bat from school.

I don't know.

That clown...that thing...that... that.... that.....

I run to the car and lock myself in, daymares flooding my mind and paralyzing me within the car. I turn it on...try to drive home...try not to think about what's going on underneath that comical and disturbing paint...who's really under the eyes and the stretched mouth and killer clothes.....

Knock knock.

Who's there?

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH!!!!    HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH